


Thursdays

by spurious



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: M/M, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, i went full sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6406834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spurious/pseuds/spurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They don’t say much to each other on Hina’s last day.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursdays

**Author's Note:**

> fic written to deal with my feelings surrounding Hina's departure from Hirunandesu.

They don’t say much to each other on Hina’s last day. That in itself isn’t unusual: it’s not like either of them are particularly chatty backstage, especially when it’s just the two of them. They exchange greetings and get ready for the show, and it’s almost like any other week, except for the pit in Yoko’s stomach. _Say something_ , he thinks. _This is your last chance_ \--only it’s _not_ , it’s not like he and Hina won’t see each other again after this, but there’s something that feels gigantically final when he thinks about the fact that he’s not going to see Hina every Thursday anymore.

After the broadcast ends, Yoko hangs back a bit while Hina says his goodbyes, watches him give handshakes and hugs, teasing Mito-chan as she wipes tears from her eyes. He goes to their dressing room before Hina can notice him looking, and he’s changed clothes by the time Hina comes in, holding a bouquet and shouting something to someone down the hall. The door closes behind him with a soft click and Yoko opens his water bottle, just to have something to do with his hands.

“No goodbye gifts from you, huh?” Hina says with a lopsided smile, putting his flowers down.

Yoko sniffs. “As if. I’m gonna see you again for Chronicle in less than a week.”

Hina laughs. “True. Won’t be a Thursday, though.”

They both go quiet and Hina turns away, rummaging through his bag. Yoko watches his back in the mirror and opens his mouth, not thinking.

“How many years has it been?”

“Huh?” Hina asks, turning around.

Yoko keeps his gaze fixed on the mirror. “Thursdays. How many years of Thursdays?”

Hina looks thoughtful, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows, his lips pursing. “More than ten, right?”

 _Thirteen_ , Yoko thinks, but he doesn’t want Hina to know he’d already counted it out that morning.

“Long time,” Yoko says.

“Yeah,” Hina says. “You’re finally rid of me, does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” Yoko says, lump in his throat. He pulls on his coat, picks up his bag. “Free at last.”

Hina breathes out a long sigh.

“Thanks for everything,” Yoko’s starting to say, just as Hina starts, “I--”

“What?” They both say.

“You first,” Hina says.

“No,” Yoko says immediately, shaking his head. “You first.”

They both look at the floor. Yoko had felt okay saying it when he was on the way out the door, but now, standing in front of each other, without the spontaneity of the moment, it feels impossible.

“This is so ridiculous,” Hina says with a slightly desperate laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I see you at least once a week, why does it feel…”

“Final?” Yoko finishes. 

Hina nods.

Silence stretches out between them and Yoko’s thinking of just mumbling a goodbye and bolting when Hina takes a few steps until they’re standing face-to-face.

“I’m going to miss seeing you on Thursdays,” Hina says. Yoko can’t look at his face, but he’s fidgeting with his hands. “Thanks for...bringing me along, back then.”

Yoko presses his lips together, breathing in through his nose. Of course Hina’s the one to take the first step, to speak from the heart when Yoko can’t.

“I wouldn’t have gotten nearly this far on my own,” Yoko says, trying for light in his tone. He meets Hina’s eyes when he says, “Thanks.”

Hina smiles, his eyes bright and sparkling, and he holds out a hand. Yoko takes it, and Hina’s palm feels warm against his own. They shake hands, Yoko’s fingers lingering just a few seconds too long on Hina’s wrist when they pull away.

“I’ve gotta go,” Yoko says, licking his lips and looking at the floor.

“Yeah,” Hina says, “see you.”

 

The next week, when Yoko’s checking his phone in the dressing room, he gets a message from Hina. There’s a photo of Hina’s feet propped up on his sofa, a TV remote in his hand and Chii-chan asleep on his lap.

 _I’ll be watching to see if you can manage without me_ , says the text. Yoko rolls his eyes, smiling and trying not to think too hard about the warm feeling in his chest.


End file.
